


blue roses

by thunderylee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Universe, F/M, Fluff, Mild Angst, Minor Character Death, Romance, magical/physical violence, side harry/ron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-26
Updated: 2005-05-26
Packaged: 2019-02-08 01:57:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12854268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Hermione is preparing for her final year at Hogwarts when Blaise walks into her life.





	blue roses

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck. slightly au because hermione does not have any siblings in canon. only chapter 8 is nc-17; the rest is r.

> **Chapter One**

It was deafeningly silent on Acacia Way. At half one in the morning, all that could be heard was a faint rustling of the warm summer breeze as it whisked slightly through the trees. Dim street lights illuminated the shrub-lined road yet left the rest of the block shrouded in darkness. The only other source of light came from a small desk lamp in the upstairs bedroom of Number Seven, where a young woman with bushy-brown hair was surrounded by a mountain of books, gazing aimlessly out of her window.

Hermione Granger sighed wistfully and propped her chin up on both hands. Her elbows rested on her N.E.W.T.-level Charms book, which had been flipped open to the same page for over an hour now. Having recently bought the required texts for her seventh year at Hogwarts, she was determined to get a head start on her studies. Somehow, she kept getting distracted.

This time it was about Harry and Ron. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had been her best friends for six years, and the three of them had been through everything together. Lately, though, they’d been quite distant towards her. Harry and Ron were still as close as ever, but Hermione often felt like an outsider.

Earlier today, for instance, they had shown up to collect her for their yearly school supplies shopping trip to Diagon Alley. They made small talk with her parents and younger sister, then the three of them flooed to The Leaky Cauldron and made their way around town. They talked about school and Ron’s family, even stopping to pay a visit to the twins in their new prank store, but something was missing. It was as if she didn’t connect with them anymore; like they were growing apart.

It was a sad thought, honestly, a revelation that almost brought tears to her eyes. She didn’t know why she was doubting their friendship. Was it just because she was a girl and she couldn’t relate to them anymore? Or was it just the result of the last traumatic attack? She supposed she would find out soon enough. She would be spending the last two weeks of the holidays at the Burrow with them before they all returned to Hogwarts. Hopefully, that time together would help her straighten out her feelings, or maybe she was being ridiculous and nothing had changed at all.

She found herself mindlessly fingering her Head Girl badge that had been included with her Hogwarts’ letter and book list. Her parents had been so proud; naïve to everything going on in the wizarding world right now, but proud nonetheless. She figured it was better that way. If her parents knew about Voldemort’s attempted reign and the numerous Death Eater attacks she had been involved in, they’d probably pull her out of Hogwarts and forbid her to practice magic.

The last one had been particularly bad. For some reason, Voldemort liked to strike right before the end of term. They had just finished their exams when a group of Death Eaters ambushed them from _inside_ the school. Hermione later learned that they had snuck in through the secret passageway from Hogsmeade, which was immediately blocked off (much to Harry and Ron’s dismay).

Nobody was killed, thank Merlin, but it was still a ghastly battle. Most of the Death Eaters escaped, although a few were captured and sent to Azkaban. Hermione only recognized one of the surnames, so she assumed the others were new or held very low-ranking positions in Voldemort’s realm. The one she did recognize took her by surprise – Zabini. In the six years she’d had classes with Blaise, she had never once spoken to him or heard anything being said about him, and she couldn’t for the life of her remember what he looked like. He kind of blended into the woodwork; if you weren’t specifically looking for him, you’d never notice he was there.

At any rate, Blaise’s father was imprisoned along with two or three others. Hermione wondered what would happen this year. Something was going to happen, of course. Voldemort would not stop until he killed Harry. It was all quite childish, really, a grown man devoting his entire life to extract revenge because of something that happened sixteen years ago. However, it _was_ happening, and there was nothing to do but wait for the next time.

Hermione turned the Head Girl badge over and over in her hand and turned her thoughts towards happier things, like what she had to look forward to this year. Being Head Girl meant having her own room. No longer would she have to endure Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil’s endless gossip about boys and other immature topics Hermione cared nothing about. No longer would she have to share a bathroom with said girls who constantly tried to make her over like she was a Barbie Doll.

She wondered who ended up getting the Head Boy badge. Her letter from Professor McGonagall had not included this information, although she could narrow it down based on last year’s prefects. Harry’s father had been Head Boy without being a prefect first, but that was a rare occurrence. It would probably be Ernie MacMillan or Anthony Goldstein. Certainly they wouldn’t choose the Head Boy and Head Girl from the same House? She didn’t think Ron was a likely candidate anyway, even though she would never tell him that.

She froze as she acknowledged the fact that Draco Malfoy could be named Head Boy. Surely Professor Dumbledore wasn’t that careless? It was common knowledge that Draco’s father was a Death Eater in Voldemort’s inner circle, even if he had been acquitted at his trial. Giving Malfoy Head Boy status would be like owling Voldemort with the exact location of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

Hermione was jerked out of her thoughts as a vibrating rumble pierced the silence. She glanced outside to see someone cruising down the street on what looked like a motorbike, pulling into the driveway of the house next door.

There were two things wrong with this picture. For starters, Hermione’s parents lived in a fairly grand neighbourhood. Nobody would _dare_ be caught driving anything other than a luxury sedan or SUV. Secondly, Number Nine Acacia Way was vacant, and had been since Hermione returned home for the summer. Her mother, always up to speed on neighbourhood gossip, had mentioned just this morning that the real-estate agent was worried she wouldn’t be able to sell the house, for the sole reason that nobody who could afford to live there was interested in moving.

The rumble ceased as the stranger killed the engine. Hermione watched him gracefully dismount the bike and prop up the kickstand. It was too dark to see properly, but she could tell it was a young man by the broadness of his physique. He removed his helmet and shook his head much like a dog would do after a bath. His previously flattened hair sprung to life and hung down to frame his face in shaggy curls.

He had a backpack strapped across his shoulders, and he was dressed in all black – black leather, specifically. Hermione’s eyes ran down the length of his frame as she inwardly noted important details in case she was asked to identify him in the future. At least that’s what she told herself to excuse her intense staring at the leather pants that were especially snug around his lower body.

He attached his helmet to the handlebars and lifted the seat of the bike to retrieve a small, flat box. He then retreated into the house, only to return a moment later empty-handed. He hopped back on the bike, revved up the engine, and drove up the street and out of view.

How curious. Hermione had to assume the young man had bought that house. How else would he have the key to get in? Of course, she knew better than anyone that there was more than one way to unlock a door, but her neighbourhood was predominantly Muggle. As far as she knew, she was the only witch for miles.

He couldn’t have been much older than she was, and that confused her even more. True, she was almost eighteen and legally allowed to move out of her parents’ house whenever she pleased; however, nothing short of a University degree would have gotten her a good enough job to afford a house on Acacia Way.

What about the box, though? Why would he visit his new house in the middle of the night just to drop off a box and leave? Hermione wracked her brain for possible explanations. Maybe it was something valuable he wanted to bring over himself, instead of chancing it getting broken by the movers. Maybe it was a radio that would already be there to listen to when he moved in. Maybe it was an air freshener to get rid of that stale-house smell as a result of being uninhabited for so long.

She chuckled out loud at the last one and realized she was starting to act like her mother. She vowed to mind her own business and wait to see what news said gossip queen had for her in the morning.

Despite her best intentions, she couldn’t stop thinking about the young man himself. He was quite attractive, even in the dark. She found herself hoping he was single and nearly scoffed at the absurdity. Hermione Granger didn’t date. Her studies came first. She would have the rest of her life to date after she left Hogwarts. She couldn’t believe she had even _thought_ such a ludicrous thing.

Must have been the leather.

> **Chapter Two**

Early the next morning, Hermione was roused from her slumber by a series of bangs and thumps. The jarring sounds snuck in through the open window, along with the blinding sunlight.

“I really must learn to shut my window at night,” she mumbled to herself, rubbing her eyes and stretching her sleepy muscles in a futile attempt to wake.

Voices accompanying the commotion led her to fling back her duvet and stumble awkwardly towards the window. She saw three moving vans parked along the curb and over a dozen people carrying furniture and other miscellaneous items into the house next door. The young man from last night was standing in the front yard next to a petite woman with bright-red streaks in her hair, both of them casually instructing the movers.

In the clear daylight, Hermione could see him perfectly. He had a tanned complexion, with midnight-black hair and a clean-shaven, friendly-looking face. The leather jacket remained, unzipped to reveal a plain white T-shirt underneath, and the leather pants had been traded in for faded blue jeans. His voice was deep, speaking in a polite but commanding tone, with a sultry richness that Hermione yearned to hear whispered in her ear.

She shook herself in an effort to rid her mind of those ridiculous thoughts, blaming it on hormones, and forced her focus on the woman with the bizarre highlights. She was probably his girlfriend, or even his wife. The red and black stripes of hair hung perfectly straight past her shoulders, layered in the front to frame her face. She wore a short-sleeved cotton top and plaid shorts that oddly enough matched her hair.

“Hermione, dear, are you up yet?”

Her mother’s voice jerked her away from her observations, and she grabbed the closest book and flipped it open before replying, “Yes, Mum.”

Lisa Granger poked her head in her daughter’s room, smiling warmly. “I didn’t think you would be able to sleep through all that racket. Why don’t you get cleaned up and have some breakfast, and then we’ll go next door and introduce ourselves?”

Hermione flashed a fake smile and returned the book to her desk. “All right, Mum.”

Her mother disappeared from the room and Hermione looked longingly out her window one last time before reluctantly dragging herself across the hall. After a quick shower and a messy war with a hairbrush, she was as presentable as she was going to be. She threw on a T-shirt and a pair of shorts and headed downstairs to the kitchen, where her entire family was already seated around the breakfast table.

Gary, her father, sat at the head of the table reading the newspaper and drinking coffee. Her mother was busily moving back and forth from the kitchen to the table, serving food and chattering to him. He wasn’t really listening, just nodding and periodically saying “Mm-hmm,” his attention focused on the sports scoreboards. Her sister Adele, who looked like a carbon copy of Hermione at thirteen, was ignoring everyone as usual and texting on her mobile phone.

Hermione grinned at the normality of it all. Taking her seat next to Adele, she was handed a plate of eggs and sausage and thanked her mother politely.

“Good morning, everyone,” Hermione said brightly.

“Mornin’,” Gary grunted.

“Good morning, dear,” said Lisa distractedly.

Hermione looked pointedly at her sister. “Good morning, Adele.”

“Hermione.” Adele nodded, as if they were vague acquaintances passing on the street. Without looking up from her phone, she added, “Have you seen the delicious hunk of beefsteak that’s moving in next door?”

“Adele!” exclaimed Lisa. “He’s much too old for you. Don’t even think about it.”

“I’m not,” protested Adele. “He’s not my type, anyway. I think he would be good for Hermione, though.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you care what’s good for me?” she demanded.

Adele sighed and put down her phone. “You’re almost eighteen, and all you do is study. I’ve come to the conclusion that you need some sausage in your life.” She held up a link for emphasis.

Gary nearly choked on his coffee while Lisa glared at her youngest daughter over a forkful of eggs.

“I appreciate your concern,” said Hermione dryly, “but let me assure you, I have more than enough _sausage_ in my life.”

This time, her father actually did spit out his coffee and her mother dropped her forkful of eggs onto her lap.

Adele snorted. “Who? That redheaded poof and his scrawny boyfriend? Come on, Hermione, even I can tell that they’re more interested in each other than you, and I’ve only met them once!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hermione lied. That was one of her main suspicions why they were acting different around her, but she wasn’t going to tell her nosy sister that.

“Is it because you fancy girls?” Adele asked bluntly. “You know, prefer eggs over sausage?

“Adele!” scolded Lisa.

“I do not fancy girls,” said Hermione through clenched teeth.

“I worry about you, Hermione,” said Adele sincerely. “Really, I do. You study too much and spend all your free time with poofs. Have you ever even kissed a boy?”

“That is none of your business.” Hermione was gripping her fork so tight her knuckles were turning white.

“I have.” Adele grinned. “And I’m only thirteen.”

“May I be excused?” Hermione looked desperately at her mother.

“No, you may not,” replied Lisa. “But Adele will be quiet.”

Adele rolled her eyes and returned her attention to her phone.

Hermione tried to sound nonchalant. “So Mum, what do you know about the new neighbors?”

Lisa’s face lit up as if she was ecstatic that she was allowed to gossip at the breakfast table. “Well,” she began quietly, as if she were divulging a big secret, “it’s quite a fascinating story. Apparently, the mother cleaned out her bank account and left her husband, who had been abusing both her and her son.”

“Mother? Son?” repeated Hermione in confusion.

“Yes,” said Lisa. “It’s a mother and son. They look quite odd, if you ask me, but I’m sure they’re very nice people.”

“How do you know all this?” Hermione’s heart leapt in her chest.

“Anne Taylor – you know, the realtor? She was over there earlier to – get this, she completely forgot to give them the keys when they closed yesterday!” Lisa clapped her hands together in delight. “Oh, and she came by to chat afterwards and filled me in.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. No keys? Then how did – “Mum? You don’t happen to know if they’re wizards, do you?”

Adele snorted again. “And you’re supposed to be the genius of the family. Have you looked around this neighbourhood lately?”

“Adele, that’s enough,” said Lisa sternly. She turned to face Hermione. “Actually, I’m not sure. They do look odd. Do they look familiar to you?”

Hermione shook her head, trying not to express her newfound apprehension about the whole situation.

Apparently, she wasn’t successful. “Hermione, dear, are you all right?” Her mother looked worried. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing, Mum.” She forced a smile. “I’m just nervous about meeting them, that’s all.”

Adele rolled her eyes, but Lisa’s face relaxed. “All right then, let’s tuck in so we can all go introduce ourselves!”

Adele groaned. “Do I _have_ to, Mum?”

Gary looked as if he agreed with her.

“We’re _all_ going,” declared Lisa.

Hermione ate the rest of her breakfast in silence.

~*~*~*~

Twenty minutes later, she followed her parents and sister next door, where the young man and woman (his mother?) were _still_ supervising the movers.

“Hi, there!” called out Lisa eagerly. “We’re your new neighbours! Welcome to the neighbourhood!”

The woman’s face broke into a smile and she nudged her son. “See? I told you they would be nice to us here.” She stepped forward, dragging him with her. “Hello! My name is Mary Smith, and this is my son, John.”

Hermione was less than six feet away from John now. His eyes were a deep sapphire blue, looking off to the side as if he was bored. Hermione was hit with a sudden familiarity. She knew him from somewhere, but where?

“I’m Lisa Granger,” her mother said. “This is my husband Gary, and our daughters Hermione and Adele.”

At the mention of Hermione’s name, John paled. His eyes widened and he stared straight at her.

“Pleasure to meet you lot,” replied Mary cheerfully.

Hermione cocked her head to decipher the intense look in John’s eyes. It was like he was trying to tell her something, pleading with her. For what, though? Now she was sure she knew him. She just couldn’t place his face.

“I’m sure you won’t feel like cooking tonight,” Lisa was saying. “Would you care to join us for dinner?”

Did he go to Hogwarts? He was obviously a wizard; how else would he have gotten into the house last night without a key? There was nobody named John Smith at Hogwarts, though. It had to be a fake name.

“We’d love to,” said Mary.

Hermione’s jaw dropped as she realized who he was. He cringed slightly, expecting her to call him out. But she didn’t say a word. She simply nodded and he let out a sigh of relief.

Mary laughed. “John is thrilled he doesn’t have to cook tonight.” She gave him an odd look and turned back to Lisa, flashing a big smile.

“All right then.” Lisa clapped her hands together. “How’s half six?”

“Perfect,” said Mary. “We’ll see you then. Come now, John, we have a lot of unpacking to do.”

They walked towards their new house as Hermione and her family returned to theirs. Hermione didn’t know what to do. Her first instinct was to owl Harry and Ron, but then she remembered his face, silently begging her not to tell anyone. He couldn’t be any danger to her, could he? Just because his father was a Death Eater didn’t necessarily mean he was the same.

She trudged up the stairs and attempted more studying. She should have known better. All she could concentrate on was the quiet, forgettable boy to whom no one ever paid any attention.

John Smith was Blaise Zabini.

> **Chapter Three**

Dinner with the Zabinis was filled with silence. While Lisa and “Mary” chattered about the neighbourhood (mostly the other neighbours), the other Grangers and “John” paid special attention to their food and made sure their mouths were always full so they didn’t have to speak.

“Gary, dear, don’t you think the Richardson children are too spoiled?” Lisa asked her husband.

Gary, with a mouthful of mashed potatoes, simply nodded and grunted.

“May I be excused?” Adele asked after wolfing down her dinner in record time. It was the summer holidays and she had plans. She always had plans.

It was Lisa’s turn to nod, waving her youngest daughter off as she listened intently to “Mary” speak of her son as if he wasn’t sitting right next to her.

“He doesn’t talk very much,” she was saying. “After everything we’ve been through, I don’t blame him. I worry, though.”

“As any mother would,” Lisa agreed.

“John” rolled his eyes and stabbed a piece of broccoli with his fork. Repeatedly. Hermione caught his eye from across the table and they both had to stifle their chuckles.

Adele winked at her sister as she cleared her dishes.

“Hermione,” said Lisa. “It’s still early. Why don’t you show John around the neighbourhood? There’s a wonderful park at the end of the road.”

Hermione thought that was the best idea her mother had ever had. “All right, Mum.”

“John” raised his eyebrows at her in question. She gave him a look that plainly said, _I’ll get you to talk_.

~*~*~*~

Hermione shoved her hands in the pockets of her jacket and shivered slightly. “Aren’t you cold?”

Her companion shook his head and fanned his T-shirt against himself for emphasis. He reached into his jean pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one. He held the box out to Hermione.

“No, thank you,” she said promptly, giving him her best _that’s bad for you and you know it_ look she had perfected with Harry and Ron.

He shrugged and returned the pack to his pocket, taking a long drag of his cigarette and blowing it towards the sky.

They walked in silence towards the little park and sat on one of the benches. “It’s a beautiful night,” she said.

He nodded, stretching out on the bench and staring at the starry night sky.

“Blaise.”

The one word jerked him out of his comfort and he sat up straight, turning towards her but refusing to meet her eyes.

“What happened, Blaise?” Hermione’s voice was full of genuine concern.

Blaise remained silent, taking another long drag of his cigarette and flicking the ashes on the ground.

She examined him for a moment, wondering if she should ask again. He stared aimlessly into the distance, a cool, emotionless mask on his face. She decided to take a chance. “What did he do to you?”

Much to her surprise, he lifted his T-shirt up to expose his lower back and chest. Even in the pale moonlight, she could clearly see the deep bruises and cuts that covered his skin.

“That bastard,” Hermione swore uncharacteristically, tracing a finger around one of the more predominant bruises.

He cringed and she jerked her hand away. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head and returned his shirt to its original position. “He escaped.”

His voice was thick and hoarse, as if he had just woken up and needed to clear his throat. It was quite deep, with a hint of propriety that indicated a rich, pureblood background.

“He escaped from Azkaban?” Hermione prodded gently.

Blaise nodded. “He knew it was me. He would have killed us.”

“Blaise, what are you talking about?”

He stared directly into her eyes. The sapphire-blue pools, dark in the night, shimmered with trepidation. “Didn’t you ever wonder how my father and the other Death Eaters got captured so quickly last term? With a sneak attack like that, there should have at least been a few casualties before anybody even knew they were there.”

“You warned Dumbledore,” gasped Hermione.

“My mother owled me with the plans, insisting that I be safe in the Slytherin dungeons when it all went down. My father was so proud; it was his first mission as a Death Eater. I’d overlooked his comments and views in the past, but I couldn’t sit by and do nothing while he took innocent lives.”

“So now you and your mother are hiding out as Muggles.” Hermione smiled despite herself.

Blaise snorted. “Attempting to, anyway. Neither of us knows anything about the Muggle lifestyle, and we can’t use magic because my father can trace our signatures that way.”

Something about that last statement unnerved her slightly, but she couldn’t put a finger on why. Instead she gave him a hopeful look. “I can help you out, if you want.”

He raised an eyebrow suspiciously. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Well, for one thing, you were responsible for saving most of our lives a couple months ago. I also happen to be quite proficient in Muggle customs, for obvious reasons.”

Blaise smirked. “All right, then. What do I have to do for you?”

“I’m not a Slytherin, Blaise,” Hermione said firmly. “I don’t require payment for my generosity.”

“You won’t tell anybody in the wizarding world where I am?”

“Of course not. Do I look daft? Why would I want to get you killed?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not used to people being nice to me.”

“Well, get used to it, Zabini.” She grinned. “After all, what are neighbours for?”

~*~*~*~

The front door of Number Nine Acacia Way opened and slammed with a defined bang.

“Thank Merlin you’re home!” called out a voice from the next room. “I can’t for the life of me figure out how to use this heating thing.”

Blaise chuckled and led Hermione into the kitchen, where his mother was bent over examining the inside of the oven.

“Mum,” he said briskly. “Do give our guest something other to look at than your back end?”

The small woman turned her head, noticed Hermione, and straightened up properly. “Forgive me,” she said, blushing. “My husband usually did all the cooking.”

“Drop the act, Mum, she knows.” Blaise turned towards Hermione. “Hermione, this is my mother, Brianna Zabini.”

Hermione held out her hand politely. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Zabini.”

“Oh no, dear, please call me Brianna, or simply Bri.” She flashed a timid smile at Hermione as she shook her hand vigorously.

Blaise chuckled. “Mum, out of all the houses in England, you happened to pick the one next to the smartest witch at Hogwarts.”

Hermione beamed.

“You’re Muggle-born, dear?” Bri raised an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Hermione confirmed.

“Do tell me how to work this contraption, would you?”

~*~*~*~

Blaise flopped on his king-sized bed and Hermione fell into the desk chair, both of them laughing hysterically.

“That was the funniest thing I have ever seen in my life,” gasped Hermione between bouts of giggles.

“Mum is nothing if not a character,” replied Blaise, chuckling madly. “The look on her face when you tried to explain how the refrigerator works -”

“Priceless!” exclaimed Hermione.

Blaise cracked open the window and lit another cigarette. “The smoke doesn’t bother you, does it?”

“Not particularly,” she answered honestly. “My Dad used to smoke, and I swear my little sister does it when she’s not home. As long as you don’t blow it in my face, it’ll be fine.”

“I wouldn’t blow smoke in your face, that’s rude.” To make his point, he leaned right up against the open window before exhaling.

They were silent for a moment, and Hermione found herself looking around the bedroom. Other than the furniture, there wasn’t much else. Instead of large cardboard boxes with handwriting scrawled on them, there were department-store bags and empty boxes of all sizes that looked like they had just been purchased.

“It’s all new,” he said, reading her mind. “Mum and I wanted a fresh start, and that meant new things. We did most of our shopping in Muggle London while waiting to close on the house.”

“That explains the wardrobe,” commented Hermione.

Blaise raised an eyebrow. “You don’t like it?”

She felt the heat rising in her cheeks. “It’s just not the type of clothing that people around here wear. This is kind of an _upscale_ neighbourhood.”

He chuckled again. “I never thought I’d see the day Hermione Granger would lecture me on being _upscale_.”

She shook her head, hiding a smile, and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror above Blaise’s desk. Merlin, her hair was a fright. If only her parents allowed her to use Glamour charms –

“Thank you,” Blaise said suddenly.

Hermione whipped her head in his direction to find that he was staring directly at her. “Don’t mention it,” she said casually. “Is there anything else I can do for you? Maybe pick up your books in Diagon Alley? You know, so you won’t chance running into your father -”

“My books are waiting for me at Hogwarts,” he broke in. “It’s a pity, though. I like to get some studying done before the term starts.”

“I-I could share mine,” she said slowly. “I like to study, too.” She almost smacked herself at the idiocy of her last statement.

“That’s obvious.” Blaise grinned. “I believe I’ll take you up on that offer. Say, tomorrow? That is, of course, if you don’t have plans.”

“I don’t have plans,” she said a little too quickly.

“Good then. It’s a date.” He seemed unnerved by those words. “I insist you allow me to do something in exchange. Is there anything you want that I can give you?”

Hermione’s jaw nearly dropped at the innuendo dripping off that question, but she kept herself together and answered without hesitation. “Yes, actually, there is. I’ve never been on a motorbike before.”

Blaise’s expression was almost evil. “Let’s go for a ride, then.”

> **Chapter Four**

“Blaise, I’m having second thoughts about this. I don’t know if I really want to -”

“Calm down, Hermione,” Blaise said soothingly, handing her a helmet. “I assure you I do know how to operate this fine piece of machinery. I’m highly responsible, just ask my Mum.”

Hermione smiled despite herself. “All right,” she said reluctantly, taking her seat on the bike behind Blaise. “Just don’t go too fast, please?”

“Define ‘too fast.'” She could hear the chuckle in his voice.

“I’m serious, Blaise, my mother would kill me if she knew I was doing this.”

“It’s a good thing we’re not having sex, then.”

Hermione opened her mouth to retort, but just then the motorbike came alive and she found herself clutching onto Blaise’s waist for dear life.

“Don’t think about trying anything fresh.” He was nearly screaming over the roar of the engine. “You could cause me to crash.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Just go.”

Blaise kicked off and turned out of the driveway. He cruised down the street and around the corner to the main road, which was nearly empty due to the late hour.

“Hermione?” he yelled back at her. “This is pointless if you’re not going to look!”

She lifted her head from where it had been buried in his back and forced herself to lean over his shoulder. Trees and other miscellaneous items on the side of the road whipped by, much like when she was riding in the car with her parents. The difference, though, was the wind blowing in her face, the loud rumble and slight vibration of the motorbike, and the feeling of cool night air all around her.

“This is brilliant!” she exclaimed, grinning.

Blaise laughed. “Glad you’re enjoying yourself! Are you ready to see what else she can do?”

“Yes!” she squealed. She was ready for anything. Even with all the adventures and discoveries she’d made with Harry and Ron, this was by far the most exciting thing she had ever experienced. She could hardly imagine what was next.

“You don’t see any Muggles, do you?”

“I don’t see anyone!”

“Good! Now, keep your eyes open!”

Hermione fought against the wind to keep her eyes open as she felt herself being lifted up in the air. Merlin, they were flying!

“Blaise Zabini!” she scolded in her best Hermione voice. “You better have Ministry approval for this thing!”

“Or what?” He scoffed. “Are you going to arrest me?”

“You’d like that too much!”

“Would I?”

“Yes!”

The argument died out as Hermione watched the neighbourhoods and roads pass by in a blur beneath them. They weren’t too high up, not nearly as high as when she had ridden the Thestrals, but higher than the Quidditch playing level.

“You want to know a secret?” she asked in a low voice, speaking directly into his ear.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“I’m afraid of heights!” She erupted into giggles.

“Really.” Blaise stifled a laugh. “Good thing we’re not on a flying motorbike, then.”

“Honestly.” Hermione rolled her eyes again. “What if somebody sees us?”

“Auto-invisibility once it leaves the ground,” he answered promptly.

“Brilliant,” she said again.

“Shall we turn back?”

“No!”

“We’re already an hour from home, Hermione. We really should turn back.”

“You’re right. You really are responsible.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Just a while longer?” Hermione felt like a little kid begging to stay up past her bedtime. “Please?”

“All right,” he grudgingly agreed, but she could tell he was smiling. “I guess chicks really _do_ dig the biker thing.”

~*~*~*~

“Hermione and John, sitting in a tree. F-U-C -”

“ADELE!”

“ _Mum_ ,” whined Adele. “I was going to spell _facetious_.”

“ _Facetious_ ” doesn’t have a ‘u’ in it, sister dear,” said Hermione cheerfully. “And besides, it doesn’t make any sense. Why would John and I be sitting in a tree facetiously?”

Adele smirked. “Why would you be out until _four am_ with him?”

“Four am?” repeated Lisa, raising her eyebrows.

“She’s exaggerating, Mum.” Hermione shot her younger sister a dirty look. “I was home by midnight at the latest, and we were up late chatting with his mother. You can ask her, if you’d like.”

“Chatting with his mother,” Adele scoffed. “Is that what they’re calling it now?”

Hermione glared. “Adele, I liked you much better when you ignored me.”

“What can I say? I’m growing up.”

“So, Hermione,” said Lisa brightly, “what are your plans for today?”

“I thought I’d help John and Mary finish unpacking,” she replied in what she hoped was a brisk, natural tone. “They also expressed an extreme interest in my being a witch, so I’m going to bring my books over to show them a few things.”

“Hermione,” her father said sternly, “are you sure it’s a good idea to broadcast that to the world?”

“Gary,” said Lisa. “Hermione is old enough to make her own decisions.” She turned back to her eldest daughter. “Will you be staying for dinner?”

“Most likely,” Hermione answered.

“That’s nice.” Lisa frowned at Adele. “How about you? Any plans?”

“Yeah,” replied Adele sarcastically. “I’m going to go over to my boyfriend’s house and _chat with his mum_.”

~*~*~*~

Hermione was gathering up her books when her door slammed open, revealing her thirteen-year-old clone.

“Are you shagging him?” Adele demanded.

“What do you care?” retorted Hermione.

“You don’t even _know_ him.”

“Just yesterday you were telling me I needed – what was it? Oh yeah, _some sausage in my life_. Maybe I took your advice.”

“I give bad advice.” Adele flopped on her sister’s bed and stared intently at Hermione. “I saw the way you two looked at each other yesterday. Mum and Dad may be stupid, but I’m not. He’s a wizard, isn’t he? You go to school together, and he’s in trouble.”

Hermione paused briefly, her N.E.W.T.-level Transfigurations text halfway in her bag. “It’s none of your business,” she said firmly.

“If it means your life, it most certainly _is_ my business.” Adele sighed. “Hermione, I may not be a witch like you, but I _know_ things. I know there’s a war going on in your – your world, and I know you’re involved in it somehow. I also know that it upsets you, and you’re worried that you and your friends may not make it out alive.”

“You know that because I told you all about it at the beginning of the holidays,” said Hermione.

“Only because I caught you crying and you tried to tell me there was something in your eye.”

Hermione looked up to meet her sister’s gaze. “You’re too smart for your own good, do you know?”

“I _am_ your sister, after all.”

They smiled at each other. “All right,” said Hermione hesitantly. “Yes, he’s a wizard. Yes, he’s in trouble – he and his mum both are. I’m helping them attempt to live like Muggles to keep his father from finding them. He’s a Death Eater – you remember me telling you about them?”

Adele nodded.

Hermione told her about Blaise’s part in the most recent Death Eater attack. “Now his father has escaped from Azkaban, and he’s looking for them. He would probably kill them on sight.”

“That’s awful,” said Adele sincerely.

“Yes, it is,” Hermione agreed. “I don’t know Blaise very well – nobody does, really. Yesterday was the first I’ve spoken to him, and we’ve been going to school together for six years.”

“With a father like that, it must be hard to make friends.” Adele frowned. “Going against what he stands for, and all.”

Hermione thought about it. Adele had a point. Malfoy was pretentious and arrogant because he was proud of who his father was. Most of the Slytherins were, and they were allies with each other because of it. Blaise was obviously not proud, therefore probably ostracized by the rest of the lot. She assumed he didn’t socialize with different houses for fear his father would punish him more. He was so responsible and well-mannered; she could only imagine what he did to get punished in the first place.

Now he was free, metaphorically speaking. His mother was such a pleasant woman, despite being somewhat absentminded. Blaise could be himself now, whoever that happened to be. And he had made a friend – her.

Adele’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I always am,” said Hermione.

“I’m serious.” Adele looked her dead in the eye. “If you die, I’ll have nobody to torment.”

Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Oh, and Hermione?”

“Yes?”

“He ought to be giving up the sausage anyway. It’s the least he can do, with all you’re doing for him. Paying off debts, and all.”

> **Chapter Five**

“The power of threes is very prominent in defensive spells. If we were to break down the composition of, say, _Expelliarmus_ , we would see groupings of -”

Hermione stopped short when she noticed Blaise’s attention was far from her Arithmancy book. In fact, he was gazing in the opposite direction, towards the window, with a faraway look on his face.

“Earth to Zabini,” said Hermione irritably. “If you don’t want to study, we can do something else.” _Something that doesn’t involve sitting so close to each other_ , she added mentally.

Blaise shook himself back to reality. “I’m sorry, Hermione, I’m having trouble concentrating. It’s not like either one of us really needs to study Arithmancy anyway; we’re the top students in the class.”

“True,” she agreed, “but it’s important to get a head start. Besides, we’re the top students in _all_ the classes.”

He chuckled lightly. “In that case, then, we shouldn’t need to study at all.”

“You sound like Ron.”

“I’m sorry.”

Hermione turned her head to face him. “What for?”

“It’s obvious you miss him,” Blaise explained. “I’m sorry for reminding you of him. It must be tough to be separated for so long when you’re used to spending every day together.”

She stared cluelessly at him for a moment, then understanding clicked in. “Oh, you think Ron and I are dating? Oh, no, we’re not.”

“Really.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Really,” she repeated. “I do miss them, though. Both Ron and Harry. But…they’ve been acting…weird lately.”

“Maybe they’re gay.” He shrugged.

She choked on air. “What makes you say that?”

He shrugged again. “If neither one of them has asked you out yet, they must be.”

“Did you just compliment me?”

“Yes, I do believe I did.”

She sat silently for a moment. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Hermione tried to turn her attention back to her Arithmancy book with minimal success. It didn’t help that the book was balanced on both of their laps, requiring their chairs to almost overlap in order for both of them to read properly.

She decided to ask a question that had been burning in the back of her mind since their conversation yesterday. “What’s going to happen when you go back to Hogwarts?”

Blaise scoffed. “You mean – will Malfoy and his lemmings sell me out to their daddies?”

“Something like that.”

He looked thoughtful. “Dumbledore assured me I would be safe at Hogwarts. I didn’t ask any questions.”

“What about in the dorms, though?” she pressed. “Surely the other Slytherins won’t take kindly to one of their own -”

“If all I have to deal with is a few egotistical wannabe bad boys whose only ambition in life is to bow down to some old coot who thinks he owns the world, then I’ll have got off lightly.”

She simply nodded.

He sighed. “I’m sorry, Hermione. I’m not being a very good study partner, am I?”

“It’s all right,” she assured him. “You have a lot on your mind. If you want to talk, I’ll listen.”

“Thanks,” he said, smiling half-heartedly. “Although I don’t particularly care to discuss something I’m trying to forget.”

“Then let me help you forget.” She tried to deliver her next statement with a straight face. “My sister thinks we’re shagging right now.”

He burst out laughing, knocking the book from their laps when he doubled over to catch himself. “Your sister,” he gasped, “is an odd bird.”

“Yes she is.” Hermione giggled despite herself. “She seems to think that I need some – ahem – ‘sausage’ in my life.”

That made him laugh even harder. “And I suppose she thinks I’m the one to give it to you? That’s rich. You’d be much better off with Harry or Ron – even if they _are_ gay, at least they would know something about it!”

Her laughter faded as she comprehended his words. “Are you trying to tell me that you’re -”

“I haven’t exactly had many opportunities, now have I?”

The laughter died completely on both sides. Red-faced and studying her hands in her lap, she stammered, “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just trying to cheer you up.”

“I know, and it’s all right.” Blaise rubbed his eyes exasperatedly. “It’s just not something I care to advertise to the entire wizarding world. My mother, however, is ‘very proud of me.'”

Hermione smiled warmly. “If it makes you feel any better, I am too.”

“You’re proud of me?” He wrinkled his nose in confusion.

“Well, yes, but that’s not what I was referring to.” She looked at him pointedly.

“Oh,” he said. “No offense, but that doesn’t surprise me. You don’t exactly seem the type to go off shagging random blokes.”

“That’s more of a compliment than an offensive judgment, honestly. Thank you.”

“I’m just full of compliments today, aren’t I?” He smirked. “You’re welcome.”

An awkward pause followed, during which Hermione continued to focus on her lap and Blaise’s eyes examined the bare walls in his bedroom.

“What’s your favorite flower?” he asked suddenly.

“Roses,” she answered without any hesitation. “Why?”

Instead of responding, he asked, “Any particular color?”

She scrunched up her face in thought. “Blue.”

“ _Blue_?”

“Yes, blue.” She grinned. “Have you ever seen a blue rose?”

“No.”

“Nor have I.”

“Hmm,” he said thoughtfully. “Like bright blue? Or more of a subdued blue?”

“Blue like your eyes.”

After giving her an odd look, he leaned over her slightly to examine himself close-up in the mirror. “Hmm,” he said again. “All right, then.”

“Is there any particular purpose to this conversation?”

“Yes.”

She waited. “Well?”

“You’ll find out.” He grabbed a spare piece of parchment and dragged the Arithmancy tomb back into his lap, flipping through the pages and jotting down sporadic notes.

“Um, Blaise?” she asked timidly, causing him to look up. “Not to dampen your spirits or anything, but you do realize you can’t use your wand, right?”

“Yes.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, you let me know whenever you’re ready to share this big plan you’re devising.”

“I will.”

It was then that Hermione realized what had bothered her about the fact that Blaise and his mother couldn’t use magic. Neither one of them had a key to the house until yesterday, but Blaise had been there the night before and somehow got inside.

“Um, Blaise?” she said again.

“Yes?”

“I – um – saw you the other night.”

He raised his head and looked at her oddly. “When?”

“When you came to the house and dropped something off in the middle of the night.”

“Oh.” He returned his attention to his work. “What about it?”

“Well, my mother mentioned that the realtor didn’t give you your keys until you moved in, so I’m wondering how you got inside without magic.”

“There’s more than one way to open a door,” he said cryptically.

“Yes, but you couldn’t use magic.”

Blaise slammed the book shut and turned to her with an almost irate expression on his face. “Do you really want to know?”

Hermione’s voice hardened. “Not if you’re going to use that tone.”

“Fine.” He took a breath, relaxed his face, and continued speaking. “I broke in, all right? And before you ask, I learned by growing up with a bedroom door that locked on the _outside_.”

She frowned. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, it wasn’t your fault.”

He started to turn away, but she cleared her throat. “What was in that box?”

Rather than looking surprised, he chuckled. “Let’s just say it’s the one thing I decided was worth taking from Zabini Manor.”

Hermione accepted that and dropped the subject. She dragged her Charms book onto her lap and began reading up on the advanced spells they would be learning this year. She was so engrossed in the theory of healing charms that she almost didn’t hear Blaise try to get her attention.

She looked up abruptly. “What? Did you say something?”

He was looking at her expectantly, raising an eyebrow at her reaction. “I said I’m done.”

“Oh.”

Wordlessly, he handed her the parchment. It was filled with lines of equations and markings that she recognized but didn’t fully understand. “What is this?”

“Just do it,” was the reply.

Aware of his eyes on her, she withdrew her wand and performed the series of instructions he had written down. When she spoke the incantation, she nearly laughed out loud at the result.

A single _blue_ rose appeared on Blaise’s desk.

She peered at it curiously, but he snatched it before she could get a good look. He held it out to her and grinned. “That, my dear, is the very nature of Arithmancy.”

> **Chapter Six**

It was past dusk when Hermione made her way across the lawn to her house, dazed by her “study session” with Blaise and fidgeting with the blue rose in her hands.

Her father sat on the living room sofa, flipping through channels on the television and drinking a beer. He glanced up when she walked through the door. “You had an owl,” he grunted irritably. “Forgive me for reading your mail, but the damned bird was about to tear up the house.”

“Must have been Pig,” said Hermione, smiling. “What did it say?”

Gary held out a small piece of parchment with Ron’s messy handwriting scrawled on it. “I already replied and said you would be ready.”

She accepted the note with a mumbled thanks and read it on her way upstairs to her room.

_Hermione,_

_Dad will be by around noon tomorrow to pick you up. We’re looking forward to seeing you – we have good news!_

_Ron and Harry_

Hermione folded the parchment neatly and placed it on her desk, letting the book bag slide off her shoulder and onto the floor. Good news was…well, good news, wasn’t it? For some reason, though, she didn’t think it had anything to do with Voldemort or Death Eaters. She supposed she would find out tomorrow.

She was looking at the blue rose in her hands, wondering if magical flowers still needed water, when there was a knock at her door.

“Come in!” She figured it was her mother – her father would have bellowed from the living room, and Adele normally just barged in.

“Somehow, I’m not surprised that you keep your bedroom immaculate.”

Hermione jerked her head up to see Blaise lingering in her doorway with a smirk on his face.

“You forgot your quill.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You came all the way over here to return my quill?”

“No.” He grinned. “Although you really did forget it.”

He held it out to her from a distance, which required her to get up and cross the room to retrieve it. “Thank you,” she said, tossing it on her desk. She looked at him expectantly.

“So.” Blaise cleared his throat. “Your mum told my mum about this place that shows films on Sunday nights. Something about a ‘young people organization’ and charity.” He shrugged. “Anyway, Mum suggested I should take you, since you’re leaving tomorrow and all.”

“Blaise Zabini,” she drawled teasingly. “Are you asking me out?”

“Yes I am.”

“Well all right, then.” She smiled.

~*~*~*~

“Popcorn?”

Hermione shook her head at Blaise’s offering. They were seated on a very uncomfortable bench in the back of a large hall, behind the many rows of Muggles who had gathered to view the film. The screen took up the entire front wall, giving them a perfect view despite being in the back row.

The movie hadn’t even started, only about halfway through the previews, and she almost laughed at the way Blaise was staring intently at the screen as if it was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen.

“You’ve never seen a movie before, have you?” she observed with a giggle.

He shook his head in awe. “I’ve heard about them, of course, but I haven’t had a chance to actually watch one.”

“Normally they’re shown in a theater,” she explained. “Or you can rent them on video or DVD and watch them on your own television.”

Blaise nodded, not listening. He brought another handful of popcorn to his mouth and chewed absently, completely engrossed by the trailer for a popular children’s movie.

Hermione shook her head and peered at the program she had picked up. “Oh!” she squealed. “They’re playing ‘Sense and Sensibility’ tonight! I love this movie.”

“What’s it about?” he asked, not tearing his eyes away from the screen.

“You’ll see,” she said. “It’s mostly a chick flick, though, so I doubt you’ll enjoy it much.”

“Chick flick?” he repeated.

“Romantic comedies,” she explained. “Movies for women.”

Blaise removed his eyes from the screen long enough to scan the crowd. “There are a lot of men here,” he protested.

“Yes, but you’ll notice they’re all with women. Most men view chick flicks as an opportunity to snog.”

“I see.”

Hermione eyed him dubiously. He was sitting at the very end of the bench, stuffing his face with popcorn with his eyes focused straight ahead. There was about a foot of space between them, which was coincidentally where they sat the tray containing the popcorn and sodas.

The movie began and they watched in silence. After about twenty minutes, Blaise startled her by whispering, “Are you cold?”

Hermione looked down and noticed she was shivering. “I suppose I am,” she said. “It’s a bit chilly in here.”

“Do you want my jacket?” he asked, starting to shrug it off.

“Oh, no thank you, I’ll be fine.” She sat up straight and attempted to stop her body from shaking, knowing perfectly well that it wasn’t from the faint night breeze trailing in through the open windows.

She glanced at him to find he was already looking at her. Their eyes locked briefly, and he smiled. Without a word, he moved the tray to the ground and held out his hand, motioning for her to scoot closer.

She gathered up her Gryffindor courage and complied, fighting the blush that was creeping up her cheeks. She felt his arm sneak around her waist, brushing against hers as their fingers intertwined. She leaned into the embrace, resting her head on his shoulder and purposely keeping her free hand in her lap.

“This is nice,” he breathed into her hair.

“Mmm,” she said, closing her eyes and giving in to the comfort he provided.

“No falling asleep now,” he joked. “I’m not carrying you home.”

She giggled nervously. “I’m awake,” she assured him needlessly, since he could probably feel her rapid heartbeat.

When he didn’t reply, she focused her attention back on the movie. It was about partway through before one of them spoke again.

“You know, that bloke looks like Professor Snape,” said Blaise.

For some reason, Hermione found this hilarious and unsuccessfully attempted to stifle her laughter. Blaise joined in and tightened his grip on her so she wouldn’t fall off the bench.

She looked up at him with tear-stained eyes from laughing and lifted her hand to wipe them dry, but Blaise beat her to it. His hand gently cupped her face, clearing the wetness away with the pad of his thumb. Even after he was done, he continued stroking her skin, and Hermione absentmindedly slid her own hand up his arm to circle his wrist. She found herself lost in his eyes, dark in color but bright with intent.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he whispered.

She nodded, unable to speak.

She closed her eyes and felt his lips graze hers. He pulled away immediately, much to her surprise and disappointment. Her eyes popped back open to find him looking down, biting his bottom lip slightly.

“I’m sorry,” he said wistfully. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Hermione tried to hold in her giggles. “Neither do I.”

He chuckled and she lost control of her giggles, both of them red-faced from laughter and embarrassment.

Blaise cleared his throat and the laughter died. “Could I – um – try again?”

She grinned and moved in first. Their lips pressed together once more, softly yet fervently, breaking apart only to reconnect over and over again. They exchanged innocent kisses as his hand slid back behind her ear and hers gently caressed his arm.

Hermione hadn’t known quite what to expect, but she had no idea she would completely lose her mind. She forgot about the movie, the cool night air, even the way the plastic bench was digging into her arse. All she was consciously aware of was Blaise’s arms around her, the warmth of his body, their uneven breathing, and the incredible sensations their kisses were creating.

After what seemed like an eternity, Blaise reluctantly removed his lips from hers and took a deep breath. “Wow,” he exhaled.

Hermione hummed faintly in agreement. Her eyes fluttered open to meet his cloudy gaze. “I wasn’t done,” she said quietly.

A slow smile spread across his face. “Good.”

Then he was kissing her again, more confidently this time. His hands twisted in her hair, angling her face for better access. She felt his tongue run across her bottom lip, causing her mouth to open slightly. She impulsively darted her tongue out in response and an almost electrical surge flooded through her veins as it made contact with his.

He groaned deep in his throat, dropping one hand to her back to pull her even closer. She was almost in his lap now, their chests pressing against each other, erratic heartbeats racing in time to the intensity of their kisses.

Hermione was snapped out of her trance when Blaise suddenly jumped away, nearly smacking his head on the back wall. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” he said breathlessly, a look of panic on his face. “I don’t want to put you in danger. If my father finds out, he’ll hunt you down, too.”

She cast a sharp glance at him. She was always the practical one, preaching about common sense and logic, never succumbing to fantasy and idealism.

Except this time.

“I don’t care,” she said firmly, grabbing him by the collar and kissing him with such ferocity they almost fell off the bench.

~*~*~*~

“Where have you been?”

Hermione glared at her sister, who was sitting on the sofa with her arms crossed, her best Lisa Granger you’re-in-trouble expression plastered across her face.

“None of your business,” spat Hermione, closing the front door behind her and attempting to head upstairs.

Adele jumped over the back of the sofa and blocked the stairwell. “Hermione, your face is red and your hair is a mess.”

“My hair is always a mess,” replied Hermione truthfully. “Now if you would kindly get out of my way -”

“Did you shag him?” Adele’s glare was stern.

“No. Now _move_.”

“You did snog him, though. I can tell.”

“Fine, yes, we kissed. May I go to bed now?”

Adele stood aside and followed Hermione up the stairs and into her bedroom. Hermione turned sharply and demanded, “I can start locking my door magically, you know.”

“For someone who’s just been snogged senseless, you’re sure in a bad mood.” Adele gave her sister a knowing look.

Hermione sighed and slumped into her desk chair. “I’m going to The Burrow tomorrow.”

“And you’d rather be spending your time snogging our neighbor than watching your best friends snog each other? I don’t blame you.”

Hermione narrowed her eyebrows irritably. “I won’t be around in case anything happens to Blaise and his mum.”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Adele offered. “Mum and Dad were talking about buying an owl anyway. I’ll just tell them we’ve suddenly acquired this sisterly bond and I need a way to communicate with you.”

Hermione chuckled despite herself. “Thanks, I think.”

Adele grinned cheekily. “I’ll even let Blaise use it to send you _love letters_.”

Hermione threw a pillow at her sister. “Leave before I Banish you.”

“All right.” Adele sighed dramatically as she made her exit, calling out over her shoulder, “Sweet dreams of snogging your new boyfriend!”

Hermione changed into her nightgown and settled into bed, unable to remove the ear-to-ear smile on her face.

> **Chapter Seven**

Hermione stretched out on the spare bed in Ginny’s room, gazing at the ceiling as she allowed herself to be lost in her daydreams. She and Blaise were snogging madly on a secluded beach somewhere, rolling around in the sand and being splashed with warm ocean water. He gently placed her on her back, pressing up against her so she could feel his –

“Hermione? Are you awake?”

Hermione jerked her head towards the open door to find Harry grinning at her. “I knocked several times. Mrs. Weasley sent me to get you for dinner.”

“Oh.” She shook herself, blushing slightly. “I-I’ll be right down.”

“All right.” He flashed a knowing look before disappearing.

Hermione buried her face in her palms. She had been at The Burrow for almost a whole week, and neither Ron nor Harry had noticed how depressed she was. She _missed_ Blaise. Just when something was starting to happen, she had to leave. Sure, she would see him at school in a few days, but that wasn’t the same. They were in different Houses and except for Arithmancy class, they would never see each other.

She trudged down the stairs and joined Harry and the remaining Weasleys for dinner. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Ginny, and Harry were already gathered around the table when she arrived. Hermione took her seat next to Ginny and tucked in.

Halfway through the meal, Hermione accidentally dropped her fork on the floor and leaned down to pick it up. As she glanced under the table to hunt for it, she noticed two people holding hands across from her.

Ron and Harry.

She banged her head when she straightened up abruptly and immediately pushed away from the table. “I-I have to go,” she stammered, racing out of the kitchen and dashing upstairs before anybody could say anything.

She flung open the door to Ginny’s room and slammed it shut before flopping on her makeshift bed. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Ron and Harry were together; that much was obvious. She should have seen it coming – she had had an idea, but she should have _known_. That’s what Hermione did, she _knew_ things. She wasn’t sure if she was more upset that they had kept this from her, or irritated that her sister had been right.

She did, however, know that someone was on the other side of the door. Of course they would run after her, following a dramatic exit like that. She didn’t need a magical eye to identify the rushed whispers and awkward movements.

Finally the door creaked open and Ron poked his head in. “Hermione?” he said carefully. “Can I come in?”

Hermione nodded into the pillow that she was snuggling close to her chest.

Ron closed the door behind him and took a seat on Ginny’s bed. “I feel I owe you an apology,” he said, “although I’m not sure what for.”

She jerked her head up to glare at him. “How long have you and Harry been… together?”

He sighed. “Since his birthday. We were going to tell you, Hermione – tonight, actually. This was our ‘good news.'”

“Congratulations,” she muttered dryly.

“Um, thanks.” Ron traced the pattern on Ginny’s duvet and frowned. “Listen, Harry pointed out that you might be hurt because you fancy me, and I just want you to know, I _did_ fancy you when we were younger -”

“It’s not about that,” she interrupted. “I don’t fancy you anymore.”

He looked confused. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t either.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t know what happened, Ron. We used to be so close – the three of us. Then we… grew up, I guess.”

Ron nodded and raised his eyes to meet hers. “I miss you, Hermione. We both do. Are you going to be all right with this?”

“It will probably take a while to completely adjust,” she answered honestly. “Where there was once a trio, there’s now you and Harry. And then there’s me – friends with you both.”

Ron shifted over to her bed and grasped her hand. “We’ll still be friends, Hermione,” he assured her. “Nothing is going to change. Harry and I would _never_ give up your friendship, you know that, right?” He grinned. “Besides, every gay man has a female best friend. It’s a rule.”

Hermione chuckled despite herself. Ron snuck an arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “Come on. Let’s go get into some trouble.”

She shoved him away playfully. “You _should_ be getting a head start on your studies.”

“See?” said Ron. “Without you around, we’d fail!”

~*~*~*~

Time flies when you’re having fun, and before she knew it, it was almost time to go back to Hogwarts. Mr. Weasley had taken her to get her Apparation license, which she hadn’t had a chance to get before, and she was still trying her best to encourage Harry and Ron to study.

“But _Hermione_ ,” Ron whined, “We’ve only got a few days left. We can study when we get back to school.”

She eyed Harry in Ron’s lap, cuddling up to him as if he couldn’t get close enough. “Fine,” she said, a devious look spreading across her face. “But I won’t let you two be alone until you study with me.”

“Hermione,” said Harry, “if I didn’t know you better, I’d wonder if you had any Slytherin influence.”

_If you only knew_ , she thought.

~*~*~*~

Apparently Adele had talked their parents into getting an owl, because one arrived for Hermione the day before she was to return to Hogwarts. The letter was short and sweet, at least as sweet as Hermione’s younger sister could be.

_Dear My Too-Innocent Virginal Sister,_

_This is our new owl, Sausage. Mum thinks I named him that because he stole a link off my breakfast plate this morning, but you and I both know better. ;)_

_Everything is fine here. I assume everything is fine next door, also. John was mowing the lawn with his shirt off yesterday. Yum. I took the opportunity to introduce him to Sausage and clearly hinted that he could borrow him whenever he wanted. I also said that he should introduce you to his own sausage. He gave me a dirty look._

_Speaking of sausage, are you having fun with your poofter friends? Write me back just so I know this owl thing really works._

_Love,  
Your Incredibly Beautiful and Multi-Talented Sister_

“What’s her fixation with sausage?” Ron asked, confused, as he skimmed over Hermione’s shoulder.

The small tawny owl perked up at his name. Harry burst out laughing and said, “Same as yours, I suppose.”

Ron flushed an interesting shade of red.

Hermione shook her head and turned the purple notebook paper over.

_Dear Obnoxious Brat,_

_Thank you for writing. Give Mum and Dad my love. Leave John alone. Mind your own business._

_Love,  
Your Highly Intelligent Sister_

“Oooh, who’s John?” Harry teased, raising his eyebrows questioningly.

“My neighbour,” Hermione replied quickly, trying not to blush. “Adele thinks I fancy him.”

“Well, do you?” asked Ron, crowding around the letter.

“I-I don’t know,” she said honestly, tying the letter to Sausage’s leg and giving him a pat before he flew off. “We only went out once -”

“You went _out_ with him?” said Ron incredulously. “Like a date?”

Hermione was blushing furiously now. “Yes, it was a date.”

“Did he kiss you?” asked Harry. “He did, didn’t he?!”

“You know,” said Ron slowly, “I always thought _I’d_ be your first kiss.”

Harry glared at him.

Hermione giggled.

~*~*~*~

“Hermione? Are you all right?”

Hermione sighed and turned to face Ginny’s bed. “I can’t sleep,” she admitted reluctantly. “Too much on my mind.”

“Want to talk about it?” offered the younger girl.

“Actually,” said Hermione thoughtfully. “I do.”

Ginny listened intently for over an hour while Hermione told her all about “John.” She left out the part about him actually being Blaise Zabini, though, and instead concentrated on the events of their date and her mixed feelings.

“I don’t know what to do,” she concluded. “It was stupid of me to get involved with him when we’re going to be apart until next summer.”

“No,” contested Ginny, speaking for the first time since Hermione began her story. “It was stupid of you to leave with unfinished business.”

“What do you mean?”

Ginny grinned. “I mean that you should have shagged him.”

“Are you channeling my sister?” Hermione narrowed her eyes.

“ _Closure_ ,” said Ginny, ignoring the question. “You’ve already spent the last two weeks wondering what it would be like, am I wrong?”

Hermione shook her head.

“There’s your answer, then. He knows you’re a witch, right?”

“Yes.”

“Apparate into his bedroom and spend a beautiful night together, then say good-bye in the morning.”

Hermione giggled. “That sounds like something out of a trashy romance novel.”

Ginny snorted. “Mum has a load of them. I used to sneak them when I was younger; you can’t imagine how much I’ve learned.”

“I don’t want to know.”

“So go, then.”

“What, _now_?”

“You can’t Apparate out of Hogwarts, you know.”

She thought about it. On the surface, it was a very bad idea. Un-Hermione-like, even. Underneath, however, she knew she wanted to do it, and Ginny was right – she wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it.

Closure.

“All right,” she agreed. “I’ll go.”

“Wait,” said Ginny, reaching across her bed to dig in her nightstand drawer. She located a small square package and tossed it at Hermione.

“What’s this?”

“It’s a condom, genius. Don’t want to spend your last term knocked up.”

Hermione tucked it into her back pocket, blushing like mad. She stood in the middle of the room and prepared to Apparate. “I can’t believe I’m going to do this.”

“You’ll be great,” assured Ginny. “Oh, and Hermione?”

“Yes?”

“Your sister sounds like a smart bird.”

> **Chapter Eight**

Hermione spent five minutes picking twigs out of her hair before she made her way towards the Zabinis’ front door. She should have known Professor Dumbledore would install security wards on the house, making it impossible for her to Apparate directly inside. Instead, she had arrived in the bushes outlining the front walk.

She raised her hand to knock, ignoring the nagging voice at the back of her mind telling her to go back to The Burrow and wait until she saw him the next day. _It’s too late for a social visit_ , the voice told her sternly, sounding very much like her mother. _He’ll obviously think you want to have sex with him, because everyone knows that teenagers only get randy after midnight._

Well, then, at least her intentions would be clear.

Bri answered after the first knock, looking very awake considering it was the middle of the night. “Hermione!” she said brightly. “What a surprise! Do come in.”

Hermione stepped through the threshold and followed Bri into the kitchen, where she was surrounded by trays of freshly-baked cookies. “Figured out the oven, did you?”

“Oh, yes,” she answered energetically. “I’ve been so dreadfully bored. I thought cooking and cleaning the Muggle way would keep me busy, but we don’t eat that much and we aren’t very dirty.” She laughed. “I’ve been experimenting with all kinds of wizarding candies and Blaise showed me how to make all different kinds of cookie dough – here, try a Lemon Drop cookie.”

Hermione accepted the cookie and chewed thoughtfully. “These are really good,” she said after swallowing. “Professor Dumbledore would love these.”

“Exactly my thoughts,” said Bri. “I want to make a whole lot of them for Blaise to take to Hogwarts tomorrow, as thanks for – you know, everything.” Her smile fell slightly. “Do the Weasleys know you’re here, Hermione? It’s quite late; I’d hate to worry them.”

“I left a note,” replied Hermione truthfully. “I just – um, wanted to see Blaise.”

Bri smiled warmly and gave Hermione a knowing look. “Of course you did, dear. He’s probably sleeping, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind being woken up by you.”

Hermione blushed as Bri winked at her. “Go on, then.”

She crept slowly up the staircase, very aware of her heart beating overtime in her chest. The voice in her head had grown stronger, attacking her with about fifty reasons why this was _not_ a good idea, but disappeared the minute she placed her hand on Blaise’s doorknob.

Right before she pushed the door open, her mother’s voice was replaced with Adele’s. _About bloody time. Don’t forget to use a condom_.

Hermione rolled her eyes as she stepped into the darkness of Blaise’s bedroom, carefully closing the door behind her. She could see well enough to make out his sleeping form in the bed. She inched her way towards him, trying to make as little noise as possible.

“Hermione,” he said softly, looking up to greet her with a yawn. “What are you doing here?”

“I-I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I’ll leave.”

He clicked on the lamp on his nightstand and sat up, exposing his bare chest as the duvet slipped to his waist. “I don’t want you to leave,” he said firmly.

“I don’t want to leave,” she responded distractedly.

“All right then,” he said, a slow smile spreading across his face. “You can sit down, you know.”

She sat on the edge of his bed, looking everywhere but at him. “I missed you,” she said quietly.

She felt a gentle tug on her shoulder as he pulled her closer to him. “I missed you, too,” he whispered in her ear, his voice low and husky. “I’m glad you came.”

“Mmm,” she breathed, falling into his embrace. “You smell good.”

He chuckled. “You have twigs in your hair.”

“Still?” She reached an arm up to search her hair. “I thought I got them all out.”

“I’ll get them,” he offered, tilting her head down so he could pick at the tiny branches. Her face was millimeters away from his chest, more specifically a dark nipple emerging through the midst of scattered hair. Before she could think about what she was doing, she flicked her tongue out to lightly graze the soft bud.

He gasped, his hands pausing in her hair, and a million excuses ran through her head before he whispered throatily, “Do that again.”

She leaned closer, taking the entire nipple in her mouth and circling it with her tongue. “Oh,” he moaned softly, leaning back until both of them were lying down. “That feels good.”

She glanced up and locked eyes with him. “Come here,” he said, lifting her head so that it was level with his. “Tell me you want this.”

“I want this,” she said decisively, trailing her finger up the center of his chest. “Oh, how I want this.”

He moaned again and lowered her head to capture her mouth. His kisses were soft yet demanding, and she impulsively shifted her body to curl a leg around his. Her knee brushed against something hard, startling her enough to gasp into his mouth.

He turned to face her, grasping her waist and intertwining both of their legs together. “You can touch me,” he said feverishly, kissing around her mouth and running his fingers along the thin strip of flesh between her shirt and shorts. “I want you to.”

“Mmm,” she said again, tracing the line of chest hair that led below the duvet. “Show me how.”

He grinned and moved his hand from her waist to close over hers. He pushed both of their hands down his stomach and under the duvet. He lifted the waistband of his boxers and pressed her fingers around the throbbing flesh, tossing his head back and groaning as she made initial contact.

She took the opportunity to sink her lips onto his neck, nipping gently at the skin outlining his collarbone. He groaned again and tightened their hands around his hardness, bucking his hips up to create motion. “Oh, this feels _so_ good,” he mumbled between sharp breaths.

“What do you want me to do, Blaise?” she whispered in his ear, tracing the insides with her tongue. “Show me what to do now.”

He loosened his grip on her fingers and lifted them up and down his length, dragging all five of her nails along the skin. His entire body shuddered as he wrapped her hand around the head, rubbing her thumb against his slit. He urged her remaining fingers to stroke him lightly, then vigorously, until he cried out in pleasure and spilled himself into their hands.

She felt him soften in her grasp and curled their sticky fingers together. He leaned his head up to look at her, breathless, his mouth partly open to accommodate for the large quantities of air he was taking in. “Bloody hell, Hermione,” he wheezed. “I’ve never come that hard in my life.”

Grinning proudly, she reached for her wand to clean them up. Then she kissed him chastely and said, “You’re welcome.”

He chuckled, still breathing heavily. “Now it’s your turn to show me.”

“Gladly,” she replied, pulling him down for another kiss, this one much more erotic. She placed his hand on her waist and inched it underneath her shirt, shivering as his fingers tickled her rib cage and lingered beneath her bra.

“Take it off,” he muttered against her mouth. “I want to see you.”

He knelt over her, helping to lift her shirt over her head and discard it somewhere unimportant. After she reached back to undo the clasp of her bra, he hooked his thumbs in the straps and slowly brought them down her arms. He kissed down her throat and upper chest as she slipped the bra off and flung it aside carelessly. Her hands covered his, tracing wavy lines up her sides until they reached her breasts. She cupped one breast in each of his hands, gently yet firmly, using her thumbs to compel his to make tiny circles on her nipples.

She let out a soft moan and peeked through her fluttered eyelids to see him watching her intently, smiling lustfully. He exhaled and said, “You’re so beautiful.”

She moaned again as his touches got bolder, nearly jumping a foot in the air when he lowered his head to replace a hand with his tongue. He licked lightly around the entire breast before taking the nipple in his mouth, sucking slowly, flicking the taut bud just fast enough to make her squirm.

His other hand hovered at her waistline, dragging his fingertips along the band of her shorts. She twisted her fingers through his and began to dip under the band, but there wasn’t enough give. Together, they fumbled to undo the button, lower the zipper, and shove the offending material down her legs and out of the way. She left her knickers on, and the sight was enough for him to groan out loud and harden against her thigh.

“You ready?” she whispered as their hands breached the edge of her knickers.

“Yes,” he replied, removing his mouth from her breast to gaze down at her with those dark blue eyes.

She bit her lip in anticipation as she pushed his hand inside her knickers and past the mass of curls surrounding her heat. Her fingers led his into her folds, submerging into the warm, welcoming wetness.

They moaned together, and he leaned down to tongue her ear and neck as she slid his fingers along either side of her clit.

She bucked her hips up instinctively, rubbing herself against his hand while he pressed himself into her thigh, now completely hard. “I want to make you come,” he hissed into her ear. “Show me how.”

She lowered his hand to her entrance, nudging his middle finger inside. After guiding it in and out a few times, she prompted his forefinger in.

“Curl them up and out again,” she instructed.

She felt him graze the spot that made her whole body tingle. “Like that?”

“Oh,” she breathed. “ _Yes_. Just like that.”

She let go of his fingers and moved her hand up to grasp his thumb, which she encouraged to rub against her clit. “Oh… Blaise. This feels… incredible.” Her words were broken by gasps and moans.

“Mmm,” he said into her shoulder, quickening his pace.

She arched her back and wailed as she came, clenching around his fingers and shaking like a fish out of water. Waves of pleasure crashed over her and soared through her veins all the way to the top of her head and the tips of her toes.

As she came down, panting for breath, she twisted her head to face his. Staring deep into his wide eyes, she said, “I want you inside me.”

She reached into the pocket of her shorts and retrieved the condom Ginny had given her. Not taking their eyes off each other, she opened the package and rolled the condom on his erection, stroking him a few extra times afterwards. He settled himself between her legs and positioned himself, pausing to kiss her one more time before they both lost their innocence.

“Would you believe me if I said I love you?” he asked.

She smiled. “Only if you believe me.”

He kissed her again as he slowly pressed inside her. It didn’t hurt, just a quick pinch as the thin barrier gave way. Then she was filled with a plethora of sensations ranging from sudden delight to intense pleasure to wanting _more_. She dug her fingers into his arse and pulled him deeper inside her, causing him to hitch his breath and let out a fierce groan.

“Hermione,” he growled, clutching her tightly, sliding their sweat-slicked bodies against each other. He lowered his hands to grasp her hips, lifting them up in time to his thrusts.

The new angle flipped a switch inside her body, and she immediately started quivering underneath him. Screaming, moaning, flailing wildly, her orgasm hit her _hard_. Hers must have triggered his, because he was grunting into her neck and pounding into her madly, sputtering incoherencies as he went over the edge.

He collapsed on top of her, both of them struggling to catch their breath. “Bloody amazing,” he gasped.

“Guh,” she agreed. “I don’t think I’ll be able to Apparate tonight.”

He grinned wickedly as he withdrew himself from her, causing her to gasp sharply. “You’re welcome.”

> **Chapter Nine**

Hermione stirred in the soft king-sized bed, half awake and very aware that she wasn’t alone. Blaise subconsciously pulled her close, kissing her forehead in his sleep. She snuggled up to his warm body and sighed happily.

Rays of sunlight peeked in through the gaps in the curtains, signaling to Hermione that it was time to Apparate back to The Burrow. It would be best to sneak back into Ginny’s room before anyone else woke up and wondered where she was. Quietly, as to not disturb Blaise, she slipped out of bed and began gathering up her clothes. Once dressed, she tiptoed to the doorway and placed her hand on the knob.

She was smacked in the head and thrown back several feet as the door swung open, revealing an angry-looking man with dark, curly hair and a bushy mustache. He had on Wizard’s robes, black and worn, his wand aimed at Hermione.

Blaise shot up in bed, now wide awake. Hermione could see him snatch his wand from the nightstand and point it at the intruder.

“Let her be,” he said calmly. “I’m the one you want.”

The man laughed; an evil, malicious kind of laugh. “You have a girl sneaking out of your room? My, my, you are growing up! Does this tart know who you really are?”

Hermione wrinkled her nose at the tart comment, but wisely remained silent. Instead, her fingers crept into her sleeve for her own wand, taking advantage of the man’s eyes being focused on Blaise.

“She’s not a _tart_ ,” hissed Blaise, his eyes full of rage. “She’s my girlfriend, and she’s a witch.”

Hermione snapped her head towards Blaise at the word “girlfriend.” He gave her a lop-sided grin, and she beamed. Unfortunately, the stranger chose that moment to cast _Expelliarmus_. Hermione’s wand flew across the room, but Blaise held onto his.

“You must be a Mudblood,” the man snarled, looking back and forth between her and Blaise. “Any Pureblood knows to keep a tight grip on their wand at all times, even if they’re making googly eyes at their lover. Now, go sit on the bed.”

“W-Who are you?” Hermione stammered as she climbed to her feet and returned to the bed.

“Why, how rude of me not to introduce myself.” The man took a step forward and his face distorted into a twisted smile. “Of course, I wasn’t expecting my son to have company at this early hour. My name is Dante Zabini.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped. Blaise’s father! He had found them! But how?

Dante answered as if he had read Hermione’s mind, his hateful gaze directed at his son. “You thought you could hide from me, didn’t you? You and your sorry excuse for a mother. I must admit, it was hard to find you without any magical signatures to trace. I was just about to give up when we noticed magical activity coming from this very house. I decided to take a chance, and it turns out I was right.”

“But I live right next door!” Hermione argued logically. “How would you know it was Blaise when it was _my_ magical signature?”

“Because, you silly little Mudblood, you cast a spell that has been in my wife’s family for generations, one that only she or Blaise could have taught you to cast.” He turned towards Blaise. “Once I saw that, I knew you were here. I’ve spent the last two weeks watching you and that traitorous bitch; gardening, cooking, acting like common _Muggles_ -”

“ _Stupefy_!” Blaise shouted.

“ _Protego_ ,” countered Dante in the most relaxed voice possible, deflecting the red beam of light towards the ceiling. “You should know better than to duel with me, son. I’ve taught you everything you know.”

“So I remember,” Blaise replied dryly. “Even if I could forget, I have the scars to remind me.”

“There won’t be time to remember or forget,” said Dante cryptically. “I didn’t come all the way here for a social visit, you know. I plan to get revenge for spending my summer holidays in Azkaban.”

“What does that have to do with me?” demanded Blaise, his voice wavering slightly. “It’s not my fault you got caught breaking into Hogwarts.”

Dante strode across the room and shoved the tip of his wand into Blaise’s throat. “Oh, but it is,” he hissed menacingly. “I know you went to Dumbledore with the information. I _know_ , because young Draco Malfoy was instructed to contact his father immediately if you left the Slytherin common room that night. I also know your mother owled you with the plans; I’m sure she was just trying to keep you safe, but I took care of her anyway.”

“Took care of her?” Blaise gulped, then jumped up and shoved his father hard. “What did you do to her?!”

“Nothing she didn’t deserve!” screamed Dante.

Quickly, Hermione grabbed Blaise’s abandoned wand and cast the first spell she could think of. “ _Expelliarmus_!”

The next thing she knew, she was lying on the floor without a wand. She heard Dante’s cackling laughter and looked up to see him restraining a struggling Blaise with Blaise’s wand in his hand.

“Stupid, foolish Mudblood. _Incarcerous_.” Dante grinned wickedly as Blaise’s entire body was bound together with thick ropes. “Our wands are charmed to backfire if anyone without Zabini blood tries to use it. Now, I do believe I’ll take care of you first.”

“What did you do to Bri?” Hermione demanded, complying with the new voice in her head that was screaming, _Stall! Stall!_

Dante chuckled. “I did to her what every husband does to his wife. It has been a long time. A Wizard has needs, you know. Unfortunately, she’s all _tied up_ at the moment, or I’d have another go. She was quite the kinky one, if my memory serves me right.” He sighed contently. “Too bad you’re a Mudblood, or I’d have some fun with you. It’s a shame my son had to dirty my good name by fucking you -”

“Your good name?” Hermione repeated incrediously. “How can you declare your name as ‘good’ if you associate with Death Eaters and worship a Dark Lord?! You escaped from _Azkaban_ , for Merlin’s sake, and -”

“Silence!” boomed Dante, immediately halting her words. He stepped forward, slowly, until the tip of his wand was at Hermione’s throat. “Say another word, and I will kill you here and now.”

Hermione gathered her courage, straightened up and narrowed her eyes. “If you were going to kill me, you would have done so by now.” Her voice was even and calm.

Dante cocked his head and leered at her for a moment, then, much to her surprise, he lowered his wand and smiled at her. “I recognize you now. It’s true what they say about you, then; despite being a Mudblood, you are quite clever.”

“Thank you,” she said warily, briefly imagining Death Eaters gathered around the dinner table, discussing her.

“And you are right!” he declared triumphantly, as if he was making a grand speech. “You see, I failed my mission to capture Potter, and had I not been sent to Azkaban, the Dark Lord would have killed me upon return. Therefore, I am going to employ you to _lead_ me to Potter, so that I might redeem myself with the Dark Lord.” At her raised eyebrow, he added, in a frighteningly horrible sing-song voice, “Or you can die! It’s your choice.”

She folded her arms and gave him a glare worthy of Molly Weasley. “If you seriously think I am going to betray Harry, you’re dafter than you look.”

“Have it your way, then.”

As Dante raised his wand, Hermione caught sight of a figure lingering in the doorway, holding something that was emitting a brilliant flash of light. It illuminated the entire room. Blaise, who hadn’t spoken a word since he was hexed, yelled something at the figure that Hermione couldn’t comprehend. The object was pitched over Dante’s head and landed directly in her hands as he cast his curse.

Her vision was filled with a frenzy of bright lights and glowing patterns, and for a moment she thought she had died. Then she realized she could still _feel_ , and the object in her hand was shuddering violently against her attempts to restrain it.

The object ceased both its movement and lights, leaving the room once again enveloped in darkness. She blinked rapidly, trying to rid the stars in front of her eyes, but she didn’t need to see to know the figure’s identity.

“Oh, my God, Hermione!”

The small frame leapt over Dante’s fallen body and tackled her to the ground, knocking the object from her hands. Her vision became more focused and she looked up at the warm brown eyes identical to her own.

“Adele,” she said breathlessly, throwing her arms around her little sister and hugging her tight. “What are you doing here?”

Adele sat up and pointed to the now-dormant object on the floor. “ _That_ lit up our whole house,” she explained, as if it were obvious.

Hermione finally glanced at the object and identified it as the blue rose Blaise had given her. “Wha -? How did you -? Why -?”

“The spell my father was talking about contains ancient protection charms,” said Blaise. “I figured you would take it to The Burrow with you, but Adele informed me differently when she brought over her owl the other day. I told her to put the rose in her room, with specific instructions on what to do if it went off.” He struggled fruitlessly with his bindings. “Would one of you kindly untie me so I can check on my mum?”

Hermione hunted around the room for their wands. Finding hers, she cast the counter-curse on Blaise and tossed him his wand as the ropes disappeared. He instantly ran from the room and left the two sisters staring at Dante Zabini’s body lying in a heap on the floor.

“What happened?” Adele asked quietly. “That’s his dad, right?”

“Yes,” answered Hermione. “He was trying to get me to take him to Harry.”

“What is everybody’s fascination with that scrawny poof?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Oh, you’ll be happy to know that you were right.”

Adele snorted. “Told you so.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Blaise returned with a giant smile on his face. “He didn’t kill her! He just tied her up and left her, probably intending to come back after he finished me off. She’s in the bath now.” He jumped over his father dismissingly, approaching both Hermione and Adele with open arms.

“Thank you so much,” he said, pulling them into a three-person hug. “My mother and I owe you both our lives.”

“Give my sister some sausage, and we’ll call it even.” Adele grinned cheekily.

Blaise and Hermione exchanged a look and exploded with laughter.

“What?” asked Adele. Her eyes widened. “No way!”

“Excuse me,” said Blaise, removing one arm from Adele to fully embrace Hermione. Without a word, he lowered his face to hers, planting the softest of kisses on her lips.

The kiss deepened, making Hermione forget about everything that had just happened, including the fact that her sister and Blaise’s dead father were in the room. She wrapped her arms around his neck and returned the kiss passionately, allowing herself to completely ignore her surroundings. There was only here and now. And Blaise.

Adele’s shrill shriek snapped them both out of their reverie, disruptively pulling apart and jerking their heads towards her.

She was looking towards the door with a deathly pale look on her face. Hermione followed her gaze and gasped loudly. On the floor, Blaise’s father had regained consciousness and reached for his abandoned wand (which Hermione had carelessly forgotten to retrieve). It was now pointed at the three of them.

Hermione reached for her own wand, but she was too late.

“ _AVADA KEDAVRA_!”

> **Chapter 10**

Thick green smoke from the curse filled her eyes, which were wide open in shock. On either side of her, she knew Adele and Blaise were wearing the same expression.

Dante Zabini lay dead in the middle of Blaise’s bedroom floor. Immediately following the curse, the only sound that could be heard was the clattering of Dante’s wand as it fell from his lifeless hand and rolled to Blaise’s feet.

Blaise promptly picked up the wand and snapped it in half.

In the doorway stood Brianna Zabini, clad in only a towel with water dripping from her hair. Her wand was aimed steadily at where her husband had been standing mere moments ago, a look of sheer determination and hatred on her face.

She lowered her wand and glanced up at her son. They seemed to communicate without words as they exchanged silent looks and moved into each other’s arms. Blaise embraced her tightly and murmured in her ear.

Hermione felt a tug on her arm and turned to see Adele trembling horribly. The stress and danger had taken its toll and her normally composed sister began to cry. She took the younger girl in her arms and held her while the tears spilled down her face.

“It’s over,” she said soothingly, patting her sister’s hair comfortingly. “Everything is going to be okay now.”

~*~*~*~

Contrary to the previous hour, the rest of the morning seemed to fly by. Professor Dumbledore arrived first, after breaking the protective wards in order to allow the necessary officials to enter the house. Then a team of Aurors stormed in to take statements, remove the body, and attempt to arrest Brianna while Hermione struggled to restrain Blaise.

“It was self-defense!” he screamed lividly. “He tried to kill us! He was a bloody _convict_!”

“Procedure,” said Professor Dumbledore calmly.

Brianna was taken away and Adele was escorted home. Hermione and Blaise were instructed to Apparate to The Burrow, where Harry and the Weasleys were waiting impatiently in their nightclothes.

Mrs. Weasley instantly made a fuss while Ginny and Ron’s mouths gaped open at the sight of Blaise. Harry simply gave him the once-over and said, “Now I see what all the fuss is about.”

Blaise shook his head and chuckled as he extended his hand towards Harry. “Blaise Zabini, nice to meet you.”

“We’ve been going to school together for six years,” said Harry, “there’s no need for introductions.”

Regardless, Harry accepted the hand and shook it firmly. Then he yanked Blaise close to him and hissed, “If you hurt her, I’ll kill you.”

“Yeah,” spoke up Ron. “Me too.”

Ginny stifled a laugh.

Hermione heard a pecking sound on the window and turned to see Adele’s owl trying to get inside. She left the boys and ran across the room to let him in. After scanning the note attached to his leg, she burst into hysterical giggles.

“What is that?” asked Ginny, pointing to the owl.

“Hey, it’s Sausage!” exclaimed Harry, jabbing Ron in the side and laughing at his suddenly reddened face.

“Adele wants me to keep him,” said Hermione, petting the small owl on his head and earning an affectionate nibble on her hand. “She says I’m not allowed to change his name.”

Ron and Harry howled with laughter while Ginny looked confused. “What’s wrong with ‘Sausage’?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Hermione replied with a straight face.

Blaise snorted.

~*~*~*~

At 10:56 am, Hermione, Blaise, Ron, Harry, and Ginny boarded the train to Hogwarts at Platform 9 3/4. Harry found an empty compartment and flopped onto one of the seats, stretching comfortably.

“At least I won’t be the only non-prefect this year, riding by myself and all,” he said, winking at Blaise and earning a glare from both Ron and Hermione.

Ginny sighed as she pinned her Prefect’s badge on her robes. “Honestly, Harry, it’s just a meeting. You act like we’re going to be gone the whole time.”

“With Hermione as Head Girl, that’s entirely possible,” said Ron dryly.

“Actually,” said Blaise slowly, looking back and forth between Harry and Hermione, “I have to go, too.”

“But you’re not a Prefect,” replied Ron. “Unless – Oh! Maybe Malfoy got demoted for his involvement in the whole plot-to-kill-you thing!”

Harry rolled his eyes and Blaise chuckled. He turned towards Hermione and wriggled his eyebrows.

“Do you remember asking me what was in that box the night you saw me sneak into the house?”

“Yes,” answered Hermione.

Blaise pulled something out of his back pocket and fastened it to his robe.

Ron and Harry exploded with laughter, Harry nearly falling off the seat. Ginny simply shook her head and smiled.

“That figures,” said Hermione, failing miserably at trying to stop the giant grin forming on her face.

The Head Boy badge gleamed brightly in the morning light, protruding proudly from Blaise’s chest.

He slung an arm around her shoulders and squeezed her tightly. “Looks like you’re stuck with me all year.”

Hermione smirked. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”


End file.
